The Empowering Character of Fluidity

But there she was, every morning, ordering the same medium iced coffee with a splash of soy milk. The order the barista had ready at the opening of the coffee shop door.

The barista with the long, dark hair and the ring on her perfectly rounded nose and the stem of a single flower peeking out from her uniform sleeve and the name tag that read “Claire.”

She was intrigued by Claire.

But then there was Peter.

She liked his familiar smile and his curly, unkempt hair and the way his worn-out sneaker tapped to an unnamed rhythm and how he never seemed to know the date.

She liked Peter.

She was intrigued, yet she was confused.

Her experience—her trip to the coffee shop each morning to hear Claire call out her order; her shortness of breath when Peter asked her the date each afternoon—her experience underscores how personal and subjective one’s sexual identity really is.

It’s empowering, really, to be able to lack a defined label for sexual orientation.

She can outline her own identity as she sees fit.

And the more we talk about our own sexual fluidity, the more common and relatable it becomes. It’s not to say that sexual fluidity is a rising fad and that people are “jumping on the bandwagon.” Rather, what may have shocked us a few years ago no longer fazes us. Instead, we can see an individual’s fluity and realize they’re just like me.

Would it matter whether she was intrigued by Claire or Peter first? Would it really alter her attraction to either one? Whether she previously identified herself as heterosexual, homosexual, or any identity between, it didn’t matter, for she was feeling feelings now. And no external force, no label, no definition could change that.

And that’s the beauty of the pervasiveness of sexual fluidity: this girl—although confused—revels in the comfort of knowing; of knowing others are walking the same path; of knowing her own power of choice; of knowing she's allowed to feel; of knowing they’re just like me.